by M C Beaton
She looked at herself with wonder. The last remnants of imposed boyishness fled, leaving her a woman about to descend the stairs and join the man she loved more than anyone or anything in the world.
Miss Manson entered and stood watching her, tears welling up in her eyes.
Freddie now seemed very far removed from her. She looked like a wealthy young debutante without a financial worry in the world. And Miss Manson, despite her fondness for the girl, despite her inherent good nature, envied her from the bottom of her heart.
It was Miss Manson’s experience that people with money did not understand the fears of people who did not have any. She looked on the generous salary she received for acting as Freddie’s chaperone as a brief interlude in a life dogged with genteel poverty. Like most people who had known nothing but hard times, Miss Manson was unable to enjoy the good times when they arrived. Worry about the future and fear of the workhouse had become so ingrained in her that she almost expected Freddie to be engaged before the evening was out and to dispense with her services on the morrow.
Lady Rennenord was someone Miss Manson could understand better, with her “come to heel or I shall make matters worse for you” attitude. She might be detestable, but in Miss Manson’s eyes Lady Rennenord had the merit of being a familiar beast.
“You look beautiful,” she said to Freddie, none of her worries showing on her long face.
“You look very fine yourself.” Freddie smiled, taking in the glory of Miss Manson’s grand turban and purple silk gown.
Freddie all at once wished from the bottom of her heart that Miss Manson, Lady Rennenord, and the as yet unknown James Cameron would disappear like smoke and leave her alone to go to the ball with Lord Berham.
“Shall we go?” said Freddie, and both women, outwardly calm but inwardly churning, made their way downstairs.
The earl was standing by the fireplace with James Cameron and Lady Rennenord when they entered.
There was a small silence. His face went quite blank as he looked at Freddie. She wondered uneasily whether he was about to find fault with her dress again.
“‘Fore George,” muttered Mr. Cameron to the earl. “Your ward is beautiful.”
“Yes,” said the earl.
Lady Rennenord flashed him an anxious glance. She herself had gone to great lengths to dim any attraction that Freddie might have. She, too, had dressed in white, a tunic gown with a gold key pattern. A diamond collar blazed at her neck, and a large, weighty diamond tiara was on her head.
But no jewels of Lady Rennenord could compete with Freddie’s glowing innocence and youth. Her blue eyes sparkled brighter than her sapphires as she looked at her guardian.
The earl was magnificent in blue silk evening coat and straw-colored tight-fitting breeches, clocked stockings, and thin dancing pumps ornamented with diamond buckles.
He walked across to Freddie and raised her hand to his lips. “I am proud of you,” he said softly. “How I could ever have taken you for a boy for one moment is beyond me.”
Freddie smiled mistily up into his eyes.
Lady Rennenord cleared her throat, making a sharp, irritated sound. “You have not yet introduced Miss Armstrong to Mr. Cameron,” she said with a slight edge to her voice.
The earl and Freddie continued to look at each other as if there were no other people present.
James Cameron gave a rueful smile at Lady Rennenord and spread out his hands in a gesture of resignation as if to say, “We are superfluous.”
“Lord Berham!” Lady Rennenord’s voice was sharp with anxiety.
He turned round, and she saw with dismay that he saw her yet did not see her. Then he appeared to bring himself back to the company with a great effort and made the introductions.
Freddie liked James Cameron on sight. He was a powerfully built young man with a sunny smile and an engaging manner. She told herself firmly that she must not try to monopolize her guardian’s attention in any way. If he was determined to wed Lady Rennenord, she must stand aside and let him do so.
She mentally bade a sad farewell to the tomboy who had done her best to keep them apart, to the boy who had thrown the peach at Lady Rennenord.
But when the earl put his hand under Lady Rennenord’s arm to help her into the carriage, Freddie turned her head quickly away so that no one should see the pain in her eyes.
There was some slight embarrassment as Freddie was presented to the duke and duchess of Hadford, for she swept both of them a magnificent bow, realized her mistake, and colored almost as red as her hair.
The earl had a sudden awful thought. “Do you know how to dance?” he whispered.
“I had a dancing master,” Freddie whispered back. “Of course, I was taught the man’s part, but I shall simply reverse the roles.”
Freddie then gazed rapturously around the ballroom. In a way, she had seen all this magnificence before, but that time she had been mistaken for a temporary footman.
Mr. Cameron led Freddie out to where a set was forming for a country dance. The earl watched anxiously, forgetting Lady Rennenord’s presence at his side.
A man asked her for the honor of a dance, and Lady Rennenord looked crossly at the earl, wondering why he had not asked her. But his eyes were still fixed on Freddie. She gave a little shrug and moved off with her partner.
Freddie acquitted herself very well, much to the earl’s relief. She was now a beautiful woman, he thought. That sword of hers was hidden in his room. Her boy’s clothes had been thrown away. Nothing was now left of the frightened but valiant youth who had stopped a cockfight and had escaped those tormenters at the seminary.
At that thought of the seminary, the earl looked in Lady Rennenord’s direction. Not for the first time he wondered about her part in it. He had been so determined to overcome Freddie’s dislike of Lady Rennenord that he had never really stopped to wonder if Lady Rennenord disliked Freddie.
Her brother, Harry, had said he had searched the whole of England for Captain Cramble, but the earl had now the gossip from the clubs about Harry Struthers-Benton. He was damned as being weak and lazy and shiftless and a deuced bad friend to have.
Despite efforts by the authorities, Miss Mary Hope and her sister, Cassandra, appeared to have disappeared off the face of the earth. Diligent enquiries revealed that Mary Hope had been companion to an old lady who had owned the large house on the cliffs above Lamstowe. On her death, she had left it to Mary Hope. Mary, who was at least self-educated, had summoned Cassandra, who was employed as a housemaid in another residence, and together they had thought up the idea of the seminary.
He all at once saw Freddie looking across the ballroom to where a stout matron was standing behind a fair-haired girl with a rather long red nose.
He found his host at his elbow and asked the duke for the identities of the two females who seemed to be of such interest to his ward.
“Oh, I thought you would certainly know them,” said the duke. “That’s the Haddington female and her daughter, Jane. I read all about that seminary in the newspapers, don’t you see. Prison of a place it turned out to be! Ever catch those women?”
“No,” replied the earl. “I would never have sent my ward to such as place had not Mrs. Haddington recommended it through a friend of mine.”
He made his way over to where Mrs. Haddington was standing with her daughter. Mrs. Haddington gave him a tentative smile which faded quickly when he introduced himself.
“How was I to know what was going on?” she burst out. “It was not as if I didn’t visit Jane. But when I arrived, she always said she was happy and did not want to come home.”
“But surely her appearance, ma’am,” said the earl. “All the girls seemed terribly thin and starved.”
“She always was a skinny little thing,” said Mrs. Haddington crossly. “Now, what with all the fuss and bother and people looking at me as if I was a sort of Lady Macbeth, I’ve got to go to all the expense of a Season.”
Jane shuffled her feet and
looked miserable.
“After all, you sent your ward there,” pointed out Mrs. Haddington, eager to share the guilt.
“It so happens I sent Frederica there because you told Lady Rennenord it was an excellent establishment.”
“I didn’t quite say that,” said Mrs. Haddington. “I told her once that I had sent Jane there because it was a sort of place of correction for young ladies. She knew it was a place for bad girls. Of that I am sure.”
“I am sure you are mistaken, ma’am,” said the earl haughtily. “Lady Rennenord is extremely fond of my ward and would not do anything to cause Frederica distress.” But even as he spoke, he realized that this was far from true. At the same moment he wondered why he had not been aware of the fact before.
“Oh, really?” said Mrs. Haddington spitefully. “She knew very well it was a home for wayward girls. My Jane tried to burn the house down.”
“Mama,” said Jane miserably.
“Oh, well, she’s back with me, and I’d best do what I can. But don’t try to tell me Lady Rennenord didn’t know what sort of seminary it was. Of course, I didn’t know about their villainy, keeping the money I sent Jane and all that. But my lady did know it was a place you sent bad girls.”
“I would like to speak to Frederica, please,” mumbled Jane.
The dance had just finished. Frederica came up and embraced Jane, and the two girls moved a little away and began to talk in low voices.
The next dance was announced while the earl stood chatting with James Cameron and trying to ignore Mrs. Haddington’s presence. While he talked to James, the earl saw Clarissa Rennenord glance quickly in his direction, immediately avert her eyes when she saw Mrs. Haddington, and move quickly away to the opposite end of the long ballroom.
He remembered with dismay that he had engaged to take her to a fete champêtre in the Surrey fields the next afternoon. He had already suggested to James earlier in the evening that the young man might oblige him by taking his ward driving so that the earl would be free to court Lady Rennenord.
Now he said, “Mr. Cameron, I had forgot that my ward is included in the invitation to the Oakleys’ fête champêtre on the morrow. I see Mrs. Oakley in the ballroom and will ask her if I can include you in my invitation.”
“I would like it above all things,” said James, his eyes on Freddie’s face. “Your ward is enchanting.”
“Thank you,” said the earl bleakly.
The next dance was announced, and the earl asked Jane to partner him. Freddie was quickly surrounded by a crowd of admirers. The wallflowers might pass acid remarks about how dreadful, how farouche, it was to have red hair, how simply too monstrous bad ton, but no one seemed to have told the gentlemen around Freddie that sad fact, and if they had, the gentlemen had all obviously forgotten it.
The earl thought as he danced with Jane that he ought to be feeling elated at Freddie’s success. Apart from that awkward initial mistake of bowing to her hosts instead of curtsying, Freddie had behaved impeccably.
After the dance was over and he was promenading with Jane, he took the opportunity to ask her how she fared.
“Very well,” said Jane with a nervous look in her mother’s direction. “Ma got such a hard time in the newspapers that she durst not send me away again.”
“I am sure she really wants you at home,” said the earl.
“Oh, no, she don’t. But I don’t care,” said Jane, tossing her head. “I’m used to her not liking me.”
“What of your father?”
“Dead.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t. He didn’t like me either,” said Jane casually.
The earl looked down at her curiously. “Did you really try to burn your home down, Miss Haddington?”
“Oh, yes,” said Jane. “They didn’t ever seem to notice me, you see. It was a lovely fire.”
“No one was burned to death, I trust?” remarked the earl acidly.
“No, I’m not that wicked. I gave ’em all the alarm in good time. Then the Sun Life Insurance paid out a large sum, and Ma was able to get all new furniture, so I can’t understand why she got so upset.”
The earl shuddered to think of what his Frederica would have become had she spent two whole years in such company.
Then he reminded himself that he was escorting Lady Rennenord and asked her for the next dance after leaving Jane with her mother. It was a lively Scotch reel, which did not afford opportunity for conversation.
Always he was conscious of Freddie, noticing her popularity, noticing the way men looked at her. After the dance was over, he escaped from his fair partner as soon as he could and asked the duchess of Hadford’s permission to dance the waltz with his ward. The waltz had not yet been sanctioned by Almack’s, but it was becoming an increasingly popular feature of private dances. Hardly anyone opened a ball with the minuet, something that would have been unthinkable such a short time ago.
Freddie looked up at him wide-eyed. Everyone drew back a little to watch, it seemed, as he took her in his arms and swung her onto the floor. The tall, handsome figure of the earl with his beautiful ward in his arms caused a great deal of speculation.
“It’s always the same,” said a dowager near Lady Rennenord. “These handsome bucks avoid every snare on the Marriage Mart, and then they tumble head over heels in love with some pretty little thing barely out of the schoolroom.”
Panic seized Lady Rennenord. Someone asked her to dance, and she accepted, although she barely knew who had asked her or heard what he had said.
Freddie floated in the earl’s arms, dizzy with pleasure, aware of the hard pressure of his hand on the small of her back and his dark, brooding, enigmatic stare as he looked down at her.
It was like plunging into cold water when the music ceased and she found herself handed over to James Cameron while her guardian took Lady Rennenord onto the floor.
Lady Rennenord began to relax. The earl once more seemed interested in her and talked lightly and easily of their proposed outing together on the morrow.
He did not ask Freddie to dance again.
For poor Freddie the whole evening fell flat, and she could only be glad when it was time to go home. Her only small consolation was that Lady Rennenord did not live with them… yet.
The earl drove Lady Rennenord home, and although he refused to enter her house, he said he was looking forward to seeing her at noon the next day and would call for her. With that she was content. Once more, she was sure of him.
Let it only be good weather, she prayed, and I will take him away from the other guests, and he will be able to make his proposal in peace, and then the long waiting will be over. I shall pretend to be fond of that Frederica creature until after the wedding.
Her butler emerged from the shadows of the hall. “Two ladies and a gentleman called to see you,” he said in a hushed voice. “I said you would not be back until very late, but they said they would wait. They have some news about Mrs. Bellisle they think you should hear.”
Clarissa Rennenord gave a sigh of impatience. That was the trouble with renting a house with its owner’s servants for the Season. They really did not seem to know how to go on. Imagine allowing visitors to wait until three in the morning!
“You should have sent them on their way,” she said sharply. “Nonetheless, I may as well see them now. Where did you put them?”
“In the little saloon, my lady.”
Lady Rennenord walked into the little saloon, which was on the first floor. The butler closed the door softly behind her.
Three figures rose to meet her.
Lady Rennenord let out a sharp cry of alarm. Facing her were Miss Mary Hope, Miss Cassandra Hope, and Captain Cramble.
Then her first fright disappeared as she realized that they were all wanted by the authorities. They could say what they liked about her in prison.
“Three criminals together.” She laughed.
She opened the door and called loudly for the servants.
<
br /> “You thought to blackmail me again, Cramble,” she said over her shoulder. “But you will not find me so naive this time!”
“We will send this letter to the newspapers if you have us arrested,” came Miss Mary’s assured voice.
“Letter!” Clarissa Rennenord swung round.
Miss Mary held up a long folded piece of paper. “Remember, my lady?” she mocked. “We have your instructions as to what you wanted us to do with Frederica Armstrong. Also your handwritten promise of money if we kept her away from Berham for two years.”
The servants came running. “No, it is nothing,” Lady Rennenord told them hurriedly. “Nothing at all.”
She closed the door slowly and turned to face the three.
“What is it you want?” she demanded harshly. “Money? I have no money here. You will need to wait until the bank opens in the morning. I gather there is no news of Mrs. Bellisle whatsoever.”
Captain Cramble gave a jolly laugh. “We do not need money, my lady,” he said. “Those jewels you are wearing will do very nicely. None of us has seen Mrs. Bellisle, but it was as good an excuse as any.”
Lady Rennenord’s hand flew to the diamond collar at her neck. These jewels, the Rennenord diamonds, had been one of the main reasons she had married Lord Rennenord.
“Cannot we sit down and discuss this reasonably?” she pleaded. “I could aid you to leave the country. Everyone has been looking for you. You are all in great peril.”
“We have already made arrangements to leave the country. None of us wants to marry Berham,” leered Cassandra Hope. “Oh, yes, we know your game.” She nodded in the direction of the letter her sister was holding. “Perhaps we should take that around to Lord Berham’s and leave it for him.”
Lady Rennenord turned quite white. Like most not very intelligent people, she was capable of great tenacity. She had set her sights on Lord Berham and meant to bag him if it was the last thing she did. Tomorrow he would propose, of that she was sure.
And then there were the famous Berham diamonds. Mrs. Bellisle had told her about them. So far Frederica had displayed only a few trumpery sapphires. The diamonds would go to the earl’s bride. All she needed was a little more time.